


Haze

by clairdeloon



Series: Dust to Dust [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Parent Tony Stark, Sick Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairdeloon/pseuds/clairdeloon
Summary: “Tony?”With difficulty, Tony raised his head to find Peter standing at the doorway. Through blurred eyes, Tony could see Peter’s tense posture and concerned expression.“Pet’r, you need s’mthing?” Tony mumbled, trying and failing to pull himself up into a sitting position. Instead, he slumped forward, and he might have slammed his face straight back against the toilet if Peter hadn’t darted forward and caught him by the shoulders in his deceptively strong grip.Right. His kid was a goddamn superhero with the proportional strength of a spider. He loved his little mutant child. Or was he a mutate? Perhaps it wasn’t the best time for him to attempt to determine Peter’s superhuman status when he could barely formulate a sentence.-Even Tony Stark needs to be taken care of, sometimes.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Dust to Dust [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1447513
Comments: 22
Kudos: 220





	Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Sixth in the [Dust to Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1447513) series. I recommend reading [From the Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151595/chapters/47740975) for context.

_Haze: atmospheric moisture or dust that causes reduced visibility; confusion characterized by lack of clarity._

  
Tony wanted to die.

Scratch that. He was already dead. He had died and gone to hell because nothing else could justify the horrible ache pulsating throughout his body, and the awful, burning pain in his raw throat.

Tony moaned as another wave of nausea wracked his stomach, and, for the fourth time in the past twenty-some minutes, he barfed up his entire digestive tract into the toilet.

And that wasn’t a good look on anyone, not even him.

When his stomach was done twisting itself into a pretzel, Tony slumped backwards, his head thumping against the edge of the bathtub in the process. Now, a blossoming ache in the back of his head added itself to his ever-growing list of physical ailments.

 _What have I done to deserve this?_ Tony thought hazily, sliding downwards until he was curled on the floor with his head resting on the bath rug. _Did I forget to donate to the children’s home this month?_

“No, boss,” FRIDAY’s voice rang out. “Your donation was submitted on the first of the month, as always.”

Oh. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud.

Tony clumsily wiped his watery eyes with his sleeve. Maybe he’d just lay here for a while until he felt well enough to annoy the devil to the point that he’d be cast out of hell.

But no. Another horrid wave of nausea had him flinging himself towards the toilet, his chest and stomach heaving. Nothing came up, this time, and he dropped his forehead onto the toilet seat. Which was gross, because, in his opinion, no amount of scrubbing would ever make a toilet seat clean enough for one to put their face on.

But apparently he’d sunk low enough not to care.

“Tony?”

With difficulty, Tony raised his head to find Peter standing at the doorway. Through blurred eyes, Tony could see Peter’s tense posture and concerned expression.

“Pet’r, you need s’mthing?” Tony mumbled, trying and failing to pull himself up into a sitting position. Instead, he slumped forward, and he might have slammed his face straight back against the toilet if Peter hadn’t darted forward and caught him by the shoulders in his deceptively strong grip.

Right. His kid was a goddamn superhero with the proportional strength of a spider. He loved his little mutant child. Or was he a mutate? Perhaps it wasn’t the best time for him to attempt to determine Peter’s superhuman status when he could barely formulate a sentence.

“‘Tony. Tony?” Tony hadn’t even realized his eyes had closed until he snapped them open at the sound of Peter’s worried voice. The kid’s face swam in front of his eyes.

“Tony, you’re really sick. I texted MJ to bring up some stuff for you. FRIDAY says your fever is really high...”

Had Peter talked to FRIDAY just now? If Tony wasn’t as preoccupied with the effort of holding himself upright, he might have been concerned with the fact that he hadn’t heard a thing.

Tony reach out to pat Peter’s arm clumsily. “‘s okay, Pete, y’ don’t need to-” He broke off into a harsh bout of coughing that had him curling inward and clutching his chest. God, it hurt.

But someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rubbing his back as he hacked his lungs up. Peter. Right. Peter was in here, taking care of him, and that wasn’t right. That wasn’t right at all, because that was _Tony’s_ job. To take care of his kids.

“Hey, I brought some meds.”

Tony blinked his eyes open, still shuddering with the aftermath of his coughing spell, and MJ was there, kneeling in front of him with pills in her palm and a glass of water in her other hand.

“Tony, can you take these? Your fever is already one hundred and two.”

It took Tony two tries to take the pills from her hand and push them into his mouth, and he was too dizzy to protest when she pressed the glass of water against his lips and tilted it upward. He cupped the glass by the base and swallowed greedily, only then realizing how thirsty he was.

His relief was short-lived, however, because moments later he was heaving over the toilet again. And apparently he was too far gone to understand human language, because the voices around him sounded odd and disjointed, and he couldn’t quite make sense of them.

“He needs...IV…”

“I don’t know how to…”

“Happy...not here…”

“I can...Natasha…”

And then there was nothing.

*****

Tony was floating. His feet weren’t on the ground and he was floating down the hallway at a steady pace. He was floating because arms as thin as the ones beneath him couldn’t possibly be carrying him so effortlessly.

Faintly, he heard a voice ring out. A low, female voice speaking quietly, and he couldn’t quite make the words out.

“Pepper,” he tried to say, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth cooperate.

He felt something wet slide down the side of his face, and he realized it was a tear, because that couldn’t be Pepper, and the reason it couldn’t be her was one that hurt. She kept slipping through his fingers again and again and again, and he was grabbing at the air to get her back, but nothing of her was left.

Tony’s head lolled backward into sleep.

*****

Tony woke slowly. His mouth tasted as though something had died in it, come back to life, and then been killed again by Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he winced a little when he registered a steady throbbing in his head.

“There are pills and water on your night stand.”

Tony flinched in surprise and jolted back against his pillow, feeling something pull at the skin on the back of his hand with the movement. His eyes darted around frantically in an attempt to spot the source of the voice, and he squinted at the silhouette of a person sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“FRIDAY, lights,” Tony croaked, and the room lit up just enough for him to be able to make out who the person was, and that an IV had been inserted into his hand.

“N’tasha,” Tony mumbled. “What are you-” he broke off into a fit of coughing, which he managed to quell by grabbing the water bottle next to him with his free hand and downing it in slow, careful sips.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Natasha said in a low tone, straightening up slightly.

Tony waved the hand holding his half-empty water bottle. “s’okay, all good.” He set down the bottle and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Natasha rolled out her neck, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “MJ called me. You weren’t keeping down your meds, and your temp kept climbing. They needed me to put in an IV.”

Tony blinked. “Oh. Hope y’ weren’t doin’ any-anything import’nt.” Why was it so hard to string together a sentence?

Natasha smiled slightly. “Nothing that couldn’t be interrupted. I’ve been in town training new SHIELD recruits. They’ll survive without me.”

Tony relaxed against his pillows, pulling the blanket up to his chest. “Tha‘s good. Thanks.” He rubbed his eyes again, his mind feeling somewhat clearer.

“Wait.” Tony stiffened again, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Where’re the kids? I-”

“Calm down,” said Natasha. “They’re right here.” She tilted her head to the side, and it was only then that Tony noticed MJ lying on a pile of blankets on the floor right beside Natasha, her back to him. He felt his shoulders relax minutely.

“And Peter?”

“Right next to you.”

Tony turned his head stiffly to see Peter on the other side of his bed, lying on his stomach, fully clothed, and snoring faintly. Tony reached out and lay a careful hand on the kid’s back. The rise and fall of it was oddly soothing.

“He carried you in here.” Tony turned his head back to see Natasha smirking at him. “It’s pretty disconcerting to see that little scrap of a kid lugging you around like a basket of muffins.”

Tony snorted. “You think _that’s_ disconcerting? Try watching him climb buildings. And jumping off them.” He sighed. “That kid’s gonna be the death of me. I’m just waiting for the day I find out MJ’s been stung by a radioactive bee.”

Natasha’s lips quirked as she turned her head towards MJ. Even in the dim lighting, Tony could see how her face softened as she watched the girl sleep. 

Tony refrained from commenting. He took another cautious sip of water, and lightly rested his hand on Peter’s upper back again when the kid shifted slightly in his sleep. He took a shallow breath, wincing at the sharp ache in his throat. “I’ve really screwed up, here, haven’t I? Them having to take care of _me_ -”

Natasha let out an annoyed huff of breath. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Wha-”

“Look at Peter,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Look at him. He refused to leave your side, he _carried_ you in here, he’s sleeping on your bed, because he’s grown that attached to you, and he cares that much about you. What about that says you’ve messed up as a guardian?”

“I-”

“Shut up.” Natasha rested a careful hand on top of MJ’s head. The girl didn’t stir.

“She’s sleeping in here, with her back to you, because whatever you’ve done has got her trusting you to the point that she’ll let herself be vulnerable enough to sleep, knowing you could wake up before she does.”

Tony let out a long breath that only hurt a little. “I guess I- I’m just doing the best I know how, with them.”

Natasha glanced back up at him. “Your best seems to be pretty damn good.”

Tony met her gaze momentarily, then glanced away, grabbing his water bottle to take another sip.

“You don’t have to stay,” Tony said after swallowing. “I’ll be fine here if you need to-”

Natasha shook her head. “I have nowhere else to be.” She reached over to pull one of the blankets over MJ’s shoulders. “And the kids were worried about you. They’ll feel more secure with another adult here.”

Tony frowned, clenching his fists around his blanket. “Was it really that bad?”

Natasha tilted her head. “Not necessarily. I think it’s more so the fact that the kids are afraid of losing you.”

Tony clenched his jaw. “They won’t.”

“You can’t really promise that, can you?”

Tony gave Natasha a sharp look. “I can damn well try.”

Natasha inclined her head, her mouth tightening. She let out a slow, careful breath. 

“I always thought that getting close to people was a weakness,” she said without looking up. “That I was better off alone, because I’d lose everyone eventually.”

She straightened up. “But even now, with everything-” Natasha broke off, folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t regret it.”

Tony caught her eye. “You don’t?”

Natasha smiled; it was a sad, shaky sort of smile, unmeasured in a way that Tony rarely saw from her. “No. Because it changed me, having people. It made me better, even if I don’t have them anymore.”

Tony closed his eyes. “I wish I could see things that way.”

Natasha opened her mouth just as Tony broke off into a bout of dry coughs. “Shit,” he gasped when he was through, rubbing his chest. Natasha stood up to approach his bed, pushing him back into the pillows by his shoulder, and pressed the water bottle into his hand.

Tony huffed at her ministrations, because for god’s sake, he wasn’t an invalid, but he drained the rest of the bottle rapidly, feeling the pain slowly recede from his chest and throat.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him and settle back on the floor next to MJ. She turned her head quickly when the girl began to stir. MJ rolled over so she was facing Tony, blinking up at him blearily.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, smiling tiredly. 

She stared at him for a moment. “You okay?”

“ 'Course I am,” Tony replied hoarsely. His smile didn’t fade.

“‘K, good.” She curled into a ball and closed her eyes again, her breaths growing deep and steady within a couple of moments. 

Tony closed his eyes, feeling a pleasant warmth that was not quite physical creep into his chest. He reached over without looking to brush a hand over a still-sleeping Peter’s hair.

And he gallantly refrained from giving Natasha the finger when she smirked at him.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, I figured Tony needed some whumpage for a change.
> 
> As for my next fic, I have a couple in the works, though I’m not sure which one I’ll be posting first. Stay tuned.


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